


君は今どこにいるんだい？

by MestariYN



Category: Kimi to Boku | You and I
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Childhood Memories, Memories, Other, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MestariYN/pseuds/MestariYN
Summary: Where are you now...?





	

  

_Spring_

 

It’s one of those years when winter breaks into a particularly pleasant spring; there is no need to put on a jacket. The young man has it thus looped around his waist, feeling the warm air hit his bare arms. 

He meanders through Kiyosumi Teien, eyes focused on the path that lay covered in hundreds of pink cherry blossoms before him. The park features many stones set around the grounds to form a beautiful landscape. Gravel nags under his feet whilst a sighs creeps past the man’s lips. 

It is quiet. _Too_ quiet. Though he could hear children playing a game, mothers watching them whilst exchanging a word or two or birds singing their songs – it is quiet. It’s almost like he’d gone deaf. 

The corners of the male's lips dip down to form a grimace when he spots a few tulips out of the corner of his eye. He stops, head coming to turn to face said flowers, barely touched by the gentle spring wind. 

 _"Whenever I see tulips, I'm always reminded of when we learned that these precious little flowers, have the strength to endure harsh winters"_  

This is what the man had once learned on the edge of spring, presumably more than a decade ago.

 

 

 

_Summer_

 

Gulls call in their long songs whilst waves hit the shore in languid non-crashes. This year continues its trend to be mild; late afternoon falls cooler than usual around the young man. 

He is walking through shallow waters, barely touching his feet and leaving nothing but a numb sensation of coldness. He is breathing, he is alive. 

Yet he feels worn. No one is there to listen. No one is there to hear what he has to say – and that lies heavy on his heart. He feels torn between jumping into the water, allowing its waves to devour him and washing away the invisible dirt that he’s been wearing like a piece of cloth – or leaving this place and going to get some Udon noodles. 

He lifts his gaze eventually, a hand holding over his eyes to shade them from the blazing sunlight. He observes the gulls up there that appear to be dancing in the wind. Perhaps they’re busy sharing their stories with one another. 

_"I don't intentionally ignore anyone. Their words simply don't resonate with me"_

 Above him, the sun beats low for the end of summer.

 

 

 

_Autumn_

 

The empty branches cast shadows across him, and eventually the man’s eyes trail off, letting the cadence of the wind's quiet voice wash over him. He likes this place. Since the Hokuriku bullet train line is in service, Kanazawa is now easier to visit. And Kenrokuen Garden, with its big artificial pond, hills and houses dotting within, is sure a must-see. 

Even the stray cats that he comes across have an air to them; heads held up high, they scan the area with almost radiant eyes. They lock eyes for a single moment before it vanishes elegantly. 

He opens his mouth, head tilting to the side when realisation daws. He snorts, feeling a lump in his throat accompanied by a bitter laugh that is barely suppressed. His eyes lose focus and follow the ever so slowly falling leaves for a while. 

Autumn has always reminded him that everything - body, mind, soul and surrounding - are constantly developing and thriving; a perfect illustration of the impermanence of life. 

 _"I thought growing older would turn me into an adult. I believed I'd find work, get married, and become an adult. But none of those things have happened. Even though I've grown older, I feel like nothing's changed."_  

Sunset is peculiarly orange today, nearly dyeing the very air he breathes; chillier winds are on its way.

 

 

_Winter_

 

Gracefully, the delicate snowflakes descend like ballerinas from the white cloudy skies down to earth, settling comfortably on trees, roofs and grass. Wildlife is dancing. Soon, children would sprint outside, competing in a snowball match or roll up the snow tightly and giving birth to a snowman. 

The young man never really liked winter. Cold and harsh. Yet, the season somehow still pulls at him to come outside to at least get some fresh air and dig his own two feet into the snow. He has bundled the scarf round and round until it softly grazed his nose, before tucking its ends snug beneath the lapels of his coat. 

His steps resound muffled, his brown eyes somewhat glitter with the reflection of the snow that covers the ground. He could see the children play; their breaths hit the air in icy puffs of white. 

That’s when it happens; he slips, unable to find balance and falls backwards. He sits there in silence. His bottom hurts a little, but that’s no matter. Something else hurts far more – the missing hand that would help him getting back onto his feet. 

 _“Words may sting, but silence hurts most.”_  

Turning his bitter cold face to the brilliant white sky, unique snowflakes keep drifting downwards and cover his footsteps.

 

 

 

"How do you continue with life when something that has always been with you is lost?"

 

The stairs creak a little beneath his feet. Slipping on his shoes quietly, the young man throws another look over his shoulder to make sure no one would hear him leaving. Shoving an envelope and his hands down his pockets, he leaves. 

There is a barely-there warmth in the air tonight that speaks of the spring yet to come; and he allows his eyes to wander to the sky, watching the stars twinkle ever so brightly down at him. He follows the sidewalk that runs up a hill. Only a few houses can be seen nearby. 

Tonight reminds him of the night when precious something had gone lost despite of his beliefs: one night, an utterly cold night he recalls, when no moon had shone, he had turned to face his brother - but by then he had already been gone. In a split second when life and death were greeting each other as old friends; returning the soul to its owner as it is believed. 

He passes an elderly lady that gives him a sympathetic look, not questioning what a young man sought at Midnight in such a place. The man nods in return, continuing his journey until he stops, staring at the objects in front of him. 

There are so many questions, yet none would ever be grazed with an answer. They'd remain unspoken, unheard, sealed within his heart. 

A gaze flickering downwards before landing on the cold stone again, the words _Asaba Yuuki_ engraved onto it. He wonders if he’s gone desperate enough to imagine that this is really the place where his younger twin brother would always be no matter what. He knew he is here and yet he finds himself somewhat overwhelmed by the feeling, by the confrontation. 

Yuuta Asaba wonders. What kind of god would allow a young life to fade away? To fade like a colour on an old painting? A maniac perhaps while he is left behind with nothing but memories. 

Yuuta bends down, leaning the envelope containing a handwritten letter to his brother against the cold stone. A single tear slips down the side of his face. 

He knows he’s been staying for too long; the desire to leave and the desire to stay tear painful at each other, but muscles refuse to cooperate and no movement is made for another minute or two. And those minutes fall deadly. 

But then Yuuta stands again, the contentment on his face dissolving; a touch of nostalgia comes but he does not quite understand why. What he has come to understand however, is that it’s time to let go of the past. He can’t cling to it - not if he wants to live a better life even without his twin. A life where Yuuta doesn’t have to constantly fight the demons crawling in every crevice of his mind and soul. The past seasons have served to ease the pain of his passing; have made him understand that he can’t always be torn into pieces. 

He has to be one. 

And as silently as he came, Yuuta Asaba leaves the graveyard, whispering his final goodbyes to his younger twin brother; a young soul that had faded too early from the painting called life. 

 

_“I will keep on living. Until we meet again… somewhere.”_

 

 

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

_"No matter how many years go by, I'm sure we'll still be laughing together"_

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> To be remembered: Casey (1992 - 2016)


End file.
